


At Trifas

by Madame_Fouquet



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25725223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Fouquet/pseuds/Madame_Fouquet
Summary: During the days leading up to the start of the Great Holy Grail War, Sisigou Kairi and his Servant, Mordred, find a moment to relax and become more acquainted before the battle can truly begin in earnest. Fate/Apocrypha one shot.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	At Trifas

Sisigou Kairi had only been testing the proverbial waters of Trifas during that first night. He knew the town was completely controlled by Yggdmillennia, but still needed to get a feel for their force deployment and defenses for himself if he and the Red Faction were going to have any hope of winning the Great Holy Grail War. It had also doubled as an opportunity to see his Servant, Mordred the Saber of Red, in action. Sisigou had not been disappointed on either front.

Not only were Yggdmillennia's forces, not counting their Servants of course, a lighter affair than he was originally worried about, but Mordred had proven himself an extremely capable combatant. The rebellious Servant had managed to dispatch all of the golem enemies with seemingly little effort, not even having to operate completely armored for a portion of the battle. Sisigou would have preferred the boisterous knight be a little more careful with the new contemporary clothing he had just purchased for him, but all went well so he couldn't complain too much. Sisigou had also learned that when it came to things like “chivalry” and “fighting fair” the two of them definitely seemed to be in agreement on where they stood. Eschew the rules and etiquette if it means you win. 

The following day found the duo wandering Trifas, getting a better lay of the town under the comparative safety of daylight. The Master had blithely recommended getting some lunch at a local restaurant while they were out. He pointed out what he referred to as a “swanky place” to Mordred. The restaurant seemed a little intimidating at first glance. Closer inspection however showed that despite the covered patio decorated in hanging grasping vines, and the multiple private rooms one could rent out for dining it was actually rather inviting. The overall energy of the waitstaff, as well as some of the finer and more humble details of the decor, revealed that it was a far more casual affair. While he normally didn't worry about balanced nutrition, and though Mordred, being a Servant, didn't need to eat, Sisigou had noticed a bit of enthusiasm his Servant had for dining. Now that he was assured they had overlapping opinions, at least when it came to combat, Sisigou was interested in attempting to get to know his Servant a little better on a more personal level.

At first the maitre d' seemed put off by the companions appearance. Whether or not it was a more mid-level establishment in terms of the standing of its usual customers, there was something naturally intimidating about the Master and Servant.

Sisigou was a mountain of a man, imposingly tall, wide broad shoulders, and a thick build visible beneath his heavy black coat. His wild brown hair and dark sunglasses did little to hide the massive scars that crossed his right eye, the three deep cuts showing plainly against his light brown skin.

Mordred, though not as tall as his Master, had an intimidating air all his own. The small white binder-like crop top, cut-off jean shorts, and his fair white complexion made an initially feminine impression, but the red leather jacket, heavy boots, and his generally self-assured and grumpy demeanor all immediately reinforced the aggressively masculine nature of him. His scraggly blonde hair was pulled back in a messy high ponytail, and he was scratching at his head in a rather annoyed fashion, which only served to further his aggressive appearance.

Though people had a habit of being cautious around Sisigou initially, a short chat with the woman positioned to welcome customers allowed the necromancer to make his very casual and approachable manner apparent. Soon the duo were shown to their table, a small one meant for two or three people that was situated not quite on the patio area, but close enough that one could watch people passing in the street with ease.

“So I gotta know,” Sisigou said while the conspicuous pair perused their menus, “What were the other knights of the ol' Round Table like?” Mordred's immediate response was to shoot his Master an irritated scowl, forcing Sisigou to rephrase the question. “No, I know your father is off limits as far as topics go, but c'mon. What about the others? Gawain, Tristain, Lancelot, Gareth? It's like talking about old coworkers right?”

“Ha!” Mordred tossed the menu aside as he responded. “Old coworkers my ass. Those bunch of stiffs usually wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Just because they gave you the cold shoulder doesn't mean you didn't work with them sometimes.” Sisigou set his menu aside in a calmer manner than his Servant, hoping that the folded books would indicate to the waitress they were ready. “C'mon, vent. Get it out of your system. No use sitting on it and stewing.”

“Gawain was a goody-two-shoes suck-up to father. Tristain was a constant killjoy who acted like he was so much better than everyone else. Lancelot I think would've been better off if he had been willing to admit to himself what an idiot he was. Agravain was a self-centered piece of shit. And Gareth was a dumb little puppy stuck to Lancelot's hip.”

“Bahahahaha!” Sisigou couldn't help but laugh at Mordred's rant. “Ah, see what I mean? You had a lot on your plate. Doesn't it feel better to get it off your chest?”

“Pssh, whatever. I guess it's good to talk some smack on those guys.” trying to hide his slight embarrassment Mordred looked away from his Master, pretending to look for the waitress who had finally noticed they were ready.

While the pair ordered their food Sisigou also placed an order for a bottle of wine, which elicited an odd look from Mordred. Once they had finished and the waitress had departed with the menus the grave necromancer looked back to his Servant who was still making a face that seemed to be wavering between confusion and disappointment.

“Take your jacket off before we eat, yeah?” Sisigou said pointing to the red leather coat they had purchased earlier. “It's brand new, be a shame to get a mess on it already.” Mordred shrugged but did as Kairi had advised and placed the garment on the back of his chair. “Now, what's with that face you're making? You look like you can't decide between vomiting or laughing at me.”

“You actually drink that stuff, Master?” Mordred narrowed his eyes at Sisigou as he posed the question.

“What? You mean the wine?”

“Yeah.” Mordred's eyes narrowed further.

“I don't see the problem. A good Merlot will pair with my steak.” Sisigou leaned one elbow on the table as he pointed at Mordred, his shades tilting ever so slightly to reveal just enough of his hard-edged eyes. “Romania is one of the top wine producers in the world. I'd be a fool to not get some of it at the source while I'm here.”

“Yeah but, it's so gross. And totally lame as far as booze to drink goes.” Mordred folded his arms behind his head, his expression having finally decided on disappointment in regards to his Master's choice.

“Oh really?” Sisigou pulled his arm back and straightened his shades, his own expression one of confusion at his Servant's jibing. “And what does a big tough knight of King Arthur's court drink then? Beer?”

“I'd have a mead!” Mordred brought his hands down on the table, before bringing one up to point at himself with a proud smile. “The Sir Mordred of beers!”

Sisigou was dumbstruck for a moment as he processed his Servant's overly proud outburst. Slowly a grin crept onto his scarred face, and that grin then widened into a smile, which was soon full-on hysterical laughter booming out from the older mage.

“What?! What's got you yucking it up like that you bastard?” Despite his harsh words and tone Mordred seemed more embarrassed and confused than angry.

“I'm sorry.” Sisigou breathed a sigh as he collected himself, wiping a small tear from under his shades. “I don't know what I was expecting from a knight of ancient Britain, but it certainly wasn't something like that.”

“Well it's the truth.” Mordred folded his arms behind his head again, looking agitated at Sisigou having so much fun at what he perceived as his expense.

The duo sat in silence for a few minutes, but did not have to wait long for the food and wine to be brought out. Mordred immediately started to devour the plate of food in front of him, while his Master took a calmer more refined approach to his meal. Despite his bulky build, casual dress, and unsettling energy people constantly associated with him, he was a man of taste and some culture and enjoyed taking time to appreciate the finer things in life. He poured himself a glass of the wine that had caused so much ruckus, before delicately cutting into the thick strip steak on the plate in front of him. As he followed his bite of meat with a drought of wine he could feel Mordred's eyes on him again.

“Damn you didn't flinch or anything.” Mordred now seemed almost impressed.

“Should I have?” Sisigou was still confused by Mordred's focus on the beverage. “Didn't anyone drink wine at Camelot? Or did they all drink the Sir Mordred special?”

A wily smile crossed Mordred's face. “Oh yeah there were some. Queen Guinevere for one. I think I definitely saw Tristan having some. Agravain, if you can believe it. But I think he thought it made him seem dignified or some crap. Bedivere also-” Mordred seemed to cut himself off as he was talking, not wanting to finish the thought about the one-armed knight.

“Hmm?” Sisigou paused before placing another bite of steak in his mouth. “What about Bedivere? Now that I think about it you hadn't mentioned him earlier when you were ranting about the knights.”

“What's there to tell?” Mordred had a guarded but morose look on his face. “He was a total weakling. Nothing more than a liability the few times he did go into combat. Easily the most mediocre of all the knights. He was all meek and a total pushover. And of course he was Father's favorite, and probably a bigger suck-up than even Gawain was!” Mordred's look fell. “But still...” Mordred's green eyes shone with anger now as he recollected more of the past.

“But still?” Sisigou was surprised at this side of the knight of treachery, it was something hinging almost on tenderness.

“But still!” Mordred yelled. “That freakin' dweeb was always nice to me. Every damn time it was that stupid smile or some kind hello and shit. Trying to talk to me when all the other knights blew me off. I hated that. Hated that that weakling was looking down on and taking pity on me.”

Sisigou didn't know if it was his place to explain to Mordred that it was highly possible Bedivere's kindness was not out of any misplaced sense of philanthropy, but that Bedivere was probably just one of those guys, someone who liked to see the best in people. Sisigou hadn't known Mordred for terribly long now, but he could see some of the good side the so-called Knight of Rebellion really had. Misunderstood or not, and despite the bad things Mordred had undoubtedly done, Sisigou felt what he was sure was something similar to Bedivere's own feelings.

“Hey, cheer up. I doubt he was taking pity on you.” The Master reassured his upset Servant.

“What makes you say that. You didn't know him.” Mordred was skeptical, the anger he wore so naturally still boiling lightly in his eyes.

“Well I can't speak for him too much, but you said he was always nipping at your father's heels right? Maybe he just recognized another good king in the making.” Sisigou offered a wry smile as he held the wine glass towards Mordred.

Mordred stared at his Master with a confused look. All the anger that had been building up thinking about his past was drained away by Sisigou's careless words that most other people probably would have found insincere. But for Mordred there was something behind the necromancer's dumb smile, and the genuine air of his toast, that made him think his Master might actually believe what he was saying. Slowly a smile grew on Mordred's face to match that of his Master's. 

“Y'know you're probably right.” Mordred grabbed his fork and took a massive bite of his food. “I mean, why wouldn't he? I've got future king written all over me.” Mordred sat back in his chair proudly as he declared his own greatness.

“Those times you saw him drinking wine, your father was probably drinking with him.” Sisigou figured that even if questions about King Arthur were off the table, some light humor at his expense was probably welcome.

“Oh I'm sure he was. What a ponce, drinking that stuff with his yes-men.”

“No, that's a king's duty. You have to look dignified. When you're king you're going to have to drink your fair share yourself.” Sisigou took a big swig of his own glass as emphasis.

“What?!” Mordred laughed at the implication. “No way. I'm not drinking any of that crap.”

“Aww come on.” The Master held his left thumb and forefinger up close to each other. “Not even a little?”


End file.
